


The Tip

by Shadoow (Chikita)



Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [15]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is a loser, Bathroom Humor, Borderline crack, Desperation, Drunk Atsumu, Gen, OOC because drunk, Omorashi, Omovember 2020, Pee, Strong Language, post timeskip (everyone is an adult)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Shadoow
Summary: A drunk Atsumu really needs to pee during one of his team’s famous after-match parties. Stupidity ensues when he runs into a masked Sakusa in the men’s room and mistakes him for an entirely different person.
Series: Haikyuu Omo Stuff (English) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504397
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	The Tip

**Author's Note:**

> This was lowkey based on a fun discussion between me and a friend on discord, we also have a bit of an AU/HC going on where Atsumu wets the bed and has to wear diapers at night 😂 and hates it. I know I closed off this series but hey, omovember! I don’t want to be left behind.
> 
> Pretty much crack, I don’t know how to write drunk people, sorry.
> 
> Omovember 2020 Day 5: Drunk

“Dude, what the hell? Go to the bathroom if ya need to piss again!”

“Shaddup, ‘Samu, I-” Atsumu tried his best to shoot his brother a glare from across the table, with pitiful results. His eyes were unfocused, voice slurring as he gripped his half-empty gin glass a little tighter. “What makes ya think I do? Did ya turn into a fuckin’ mind reader or what?”

Osamu rolled his eyes with a long groan before pointing an accusing finger at him, “Oh, maybe the small fact that you’ve been rocking on your chair for the past fifteen minutes, and, uhhh... _grabbing yourself?_ Don’t think I can’t see that just because you’re doing it under the table.”

“Hah?” Atsumu blinked slowly, tilting his head in a way that tricked his eyes into thinking he and Osamu were triplets instead of twins. Oh no, he thought with a pang of horror. Please, not another one, _anything_ but that! With his buzzing head still feeling detached from the rest of his body, he peered down at his lap where he had his left hand buried in his crotch, legs twisted into a pretzel and thighs practically glued together. A few beats of confusion passed, and then, through the numbness in his brain, he remembered what he’d been ignoring for far too long.

“Oh shit!” He grabbed himself with more fervor, untangling his legs and doubling over as the pulsing of his bladder brought him back to reality. He was full. He was really fucking full, but how? Hadn’t he just _been_ to the bathroom less than an hour ago? Had he broken the seal earlier?

“Tsumu, I swear to the gods, if ya don’t fling your ass to the toilet right now I will drag ya there with my own hands.” Osamu had his face in his hands, mumbling something about a “weak bladder” that Atsumu would’ve loved to strangle him for, but this wasn’t the time for petty fights. Now that he was aware of the severity of his need, ignoring it to prove a point simply wasn’t an option anymore.

He couldn’t. As much as he hated his brother being right, he _couldn’t._ Not for a moment longer.

He shoved his glass aside, almost knocking it over the edge as he used his free hand to hoist himself up on the table’s surface, the other one still wedged between his thighs. His breathing was ragged, and as soon as he stood somewhat upright, gravity crashed down on his bladder, making him hiss through his teeth as another wave of need washed over him. His legs shook, knees threatening to give way under the pressure, but he had to resist. If he surrendered and sat back down _now,_ he would never manage to get up again.

His eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the worst urge to pass, only enough to _not_ feel like he was about to explode if he moved. People were staring, but he was desperate, _fuck._ Once he felt like he could handle walking a few feet without pissing all over himself and the floor, he pried his eyes open, taking a deep, shuddery breath to regain at least a tiny bit of his composure.

“You okay?” Osamu’s face twisted in a rare streak of concern. Atsumu shook his head, biting back a groan as, despite all of his efforts, the first spurt hit his underwear, followed by a second one, warm wetness spreading across his groin. _No._ No, he fucking _wasn’t._ His heart rate doubled. He barely managed to pinch off the flow, sweating and panting from the strain of holding back what felt like gallons of liquid. If bladders could burst his was at the point of no return.

He had to hurry. He had to fucking _hurry_ or else he’d be forced to walk home in soaked jeans.

“Watch my glass!” He spun on his heel, eyes set on the blue sign in the back of the bar, holding himself in an iron grip to keep anything more from coming out. His legs wobbled as he took the first steps in the right direction, the ground swimming under his feet, heart fluttering in anticipation. The bathroom was nearby. He had to get there and pee, and if it was the last thing he did tonight.

\---

Kiyoomi jumped at the noise of a door slamming open, the shock forcing him to drop his priced bottle of hand sanitizer. With a growl, he whipped around, ready to fight whoever dared to disturb his hygiene routine.

There was a guy, bracing himself against one of the door frames, one he instantly recognized as one of his more annoying teammates. His gaze was disoriented, face flushed. Worst of all, he had his jeans fully unzipped, shaky fingers nestling at the waistband of his underwear as he stared at him, sheer _panic_ radiating off his face. Kiyoomi got the hint and stepped aside, clearing the path just in time for said guy to barrel past him in a frantic rush to get to the urinals. Despite his hurry, he wasn’t fast enough, or maybe his aim was just that terrible, because the first jet ended up missing, splashing all over his shoes and the hem of his pant legs.

At this point, Kiyoomi should’ve been grossed out, but a strange fascination kept him from taking his eyes away. It was almost like a train crash, just without the dead bodies. For now.

“Ah...F-Fuck!” Atsumu’s breath came out in a rush as muffled hissing filled the room, with him actually peeing _into_ the urinal like a civilized human being. His eyes were teary and glazed over, a borderline euphoric look on his face as he did what he so obviously needed to, one hand grasping the tiled wall for balance. He looked positively wrecked, more satisfied than he’d ever seen him look after winning one of their matches. Any more and he would’ve had flowers dancing around his head.

Kiyoomi averted his eyes, feeling strangely warm under his mask as he crouched down to dig through his bag and pull out a fresh pair of rubber gloves. Public bathrooms were disgusting and sadly, this one wasn’t an exception. Besides, he’d never enjoyed his team’s after-match parties, preferring alcohol in a bottle of disinfectant instead of anywhere near his food. Not to mention the...well, _diuretic_ effects of alcohol that turned toilet breaks into a far more frequent occurrence than he would’ve liked. And now, a certain someone was all too eager to prove his point.

He was about to gather his belongings and leave when Atsumu finished with a shameless groan, shook off, and adjusted his clothes before turning around. He still had that muddled, hazy look in eyes, but his brows were furrowed, nose scrunched up. A fool could’ve told he was wasted beyond belief. Kiyoomi almost felt sorry for him, but that’s what people got when they didn’t respect the limits of their own bodies, including alcohol tolerance and bladder capacity.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Kiyoomi sighed, feeling like he was scolding a small child despite them both being adults in their twenties, “Go wash your hands, you just pissed on them!” _And your shoes,_ he muttered in his head, cringing at the image forever ingrained into his memory. Now he would have to think of _that_ everytime the guy set up a ball for him at practice.

“I’m...sorry about the mess, ma’am,” Atsumu replied in a nasal voice, nodding towards the puddle in front of the urinal, “Ah...didn’t do that on purpose. Couldn’t hold it. Had to go real bad.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. Yeah, that was out of question. He knew a close call when he saw one. And yet, the unfamiliar look of remorse on Atsumu’s face and the western nickname left him speechless. Before he could come up with a coherent response, the guy closed the distance between them and snatched his wrist with his unwashed hands to drop something in his palm.

“W-What-” He looked at the small round object, blinking in confusion. It was a coin. A rusty old coin but a coin nonetheless. His brain raced with the effort to come up with an explanation for why Atsumu was giving him money in a public restroom, but he was at a loss for ideas.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh yeah, my bad.” Atsumu’s eyes widened comically, and he lowered his head, swaying on his feet while he dug through both of his jeans pockets. Soon, he found a 1000 Yen bill that he _also_ dropped in Kiyoomi’s hand as if he was trying to pay back a debt. And then he teared up for real.

“I get it, it’s unfair. Yer always here, keeping our country from drowning in filth, working yer aging bones to the ground.” Kiyoomi gaped. Wait, aging bones? Atsumu was several months _older_ than him, what drugs was he on? Was this a joke? Roleplay? “Ya...*hick* poor souls deserve so much more respect for the job ya do. So much more recno- recog- ahh fuck it, ya know what I mean!” He sniffled miserably, moving one fist up to his face to rub at his wet eyes.

_Ah._

Kiyoomi found it hard to decide which was more bizarre. The fact that Atsumu was so ridiculously drunk he didn’t recognize his own teammate, or that the combination of mask and yellow gloves made him look like a cleaning lady. An _old_ lady to top it off. He sighed, his head throbbing. Maybe he should make an appointment with his hairdresser in the near future, just in case.

“You’re misunderstanding. Here. Keep it. I don’t want your money.” Kiyoomi held out his hand to give Atsumu his cash back, preferably without touching his wet _anything_. He wasn’t poor and had enough self-respect to not scam a guy who was too intoxicated to think straight into tipping him.

“No!” Atsumu shook his head hard enough to give himself a concussion before bowing as if this situation wasn’t weird enough, almost landing on his face. “Ya should get paid more, and ya need better insurance, damn it!” Kiyoomi considered sacrificing his health and pulling down his mask to show that hey, it was _him,_ Omi-Omi, the spiker with the scary, flexible wrists, but it was too late.

Atsumu hauled himself to his feet and staggered past with a red face, not even bothering to say goodbye. The door opened and slammed shut again as the idiot fled the room in a drunken stupor. Without washing his hands, Kiyoomi remembered with a shudder of disgust, as he pulled off his barely used gloves and went to the sink to disinfect his hands for the fourth time that evening.

_He was too old for this insanity._

\---

“I’m not sure why, but I feel like I made a fool out of myself earlier.”

Atsumu sulked as talked to his empty glass, in the process of sobering up since the barkeeper had refused to sell him more alcohol. Osamu, still slumping on the seat across from him, had his chin propped up on his hands, unimpressed, eyes droopy with fatigue. It was past midnight, and most of Atsumu’s teammates had gone home long ago. Soon, it’d be time for them all to leave and hit the sack.

“Aside from you almost pissing yourself twice on the same day ‘cause ya waited too long to go, that’s nothing new.”

Atsumu’s frown deepened, lip sticking out in a pout. “Yer an asshole, ‘Samu. I don’t even know why I keep inviting ya to our parties. I could just leave ya rot at home if I wanted to.” Not that he was proud of some of his... _misjudgements_ concerning his holding abilities, but _still._ So what if he'd downed an extra-large bottle of ice-tea before leaving the house? It wasn’t his fault his jerk of a brother had to pick a route with as many traffic lights as possible just to annoy him.

“Because you couldn’t possibly survive on your own.” Osamu shrugged in that casual manner as if he was talking about the weather, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’d have to put you in diapers before letting you go to any place where they sell alcohol.” Atsumu glared at his younger twin brother, veins filling with rage. The “weak bladder” comment had been one thing, he could tolerate that since it wasn’t a lie, but oh _no,_ he was not _fucking_ going there.

“It would spare you a lot of shame.” Osamu’s bored expression didn’t change, except for the faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Atsumu kept glaring him down, his temper a ticking time bomb. He should’ve given in to his instincts back then and strangled him once and for all.

“What? Don’t tell me ya want a repeat of what happened at Suna’s last birthday party.”

**Author's Note:**

> Run, Osamu! Run!


End file.
